#this could either go very well for me or very badly

[copper-16]

The Beginning

The decision to have a baby, as well as how the Barcelona girls find out about Ingrid's pregnancy (confusion ensues, as it always does).

(a/n: repeat after me: thank you @lucawrites11 for sending me the picture of Mapi with a child so I could write this and not end up down an internet rabbit hole of trying to find a picture of Mapi with a child! This was highly requested, so I hope you guys enjoy it!)

They were sitting together on the couch watching a movie when Ingrid brings it up, less because she had intentionally thought through doing so and more because the words tumble out of her. 

“I want a baby with you,” she blurts out, her eyes widening at her own candor. Mapi seems equally as shocked, fumbling to get the remote and turn the movie off, the conversation at hand exponentially more interesting than whatever they were watching. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t…I don’t know why I said that,” the Norwegian shakes her head, but Mapi stops her as she moves closer, her focus now solely on Ingrid. 

“No, no, clearly you did. Where is your mind?” The Spaniard asked thoughtfully, because she could tell this was something Ingrid had been thinking about. 

All week, ever since they had a big win in the Champions League last Saturday, the dark haired woman had been a little bit quiet. Not in a bad way necessarily, but Mapi could tell that something was on her wife’s mind. Something was bothering her, but she had simply been waiting for Ingrid to come to her before she did something about it. 

“We have a plan,” Ingrid started nervously, playing with her own fingers as she looked down at her lap where they lay. 

And it was true, they did have a plan. They had gotten married a little over a year before, had just bought a house together. They were going to wait a few years to have children, until Mapi had retired and then they would adopt. 

Ingrid knew she was throwing a wrench in the meticulously planned setup, but she couldn’t help it. She says as much, trying to explain her thought process. 

“We have a plan, but every time I see you with a kid or a baby I can’t help but want one with you. My ovaries feel like they are going to burst, and I just know you would be the best Mami and I well…” Ingrid stopped herself with a sigh. Mapi was showing absolutely no emotion, simply observing the defender and trying not to give anything away as to her own thoughts. 

“I know it would be a lot more complicated, but I don’t want to wait. We are stable, and I know we are both playing but I see more and more players having kids and I just…I feel like we could do it. I want a little baby that is you and me, I want to experience all of it,” Ingrid couldn’t decide if she was begging her wife to do this or trying to talk herself out of it, but either way Mapi softened when she saw how misty eyed the Norwegian was growing. 

“Oh Ingrid, come here,” she replied gently, bringing the green eyed woman into her arms and hugging her firmly. She rubbed her hand up and down the dark haired woman’s back for a moment, before she pulled back slightly. 

“Princesa, I want that with you too, of course I do,” Mapi promised, as Ingrid paused, looking up at her wife’s face with confusion. 

“You do? But we had…we had the whole plan!” She exclaimed, brushing away her own tears as she sat up, now a little lost. She was getting conflicting accounts, and her confusion persisted when Mapi appeared to grow a bit guilty, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“I don’t…I really want kids but I do not want to carry them. And I didn’t want to put that on you, so I suggested the plan instead so neither of us would have to sacrifice our careers,” the brunette admitted, feeling a little bit bad about it. She wanted kids, very badly in fact, but the thought of carrying them held absolutely no appeal to her whatsoever. And given her own negative thoughts on the matter, she had absolutely no intention of making her wife feel like she had to carry their kids, if she didn’t want to. 

“Oh my god Mapi no, I want to carry,” Ingrid gushed, realizing with a flush of hope that she might not be entirely crazy or alone in her desires. “I only went along with the plan because you seemed so insistent!” 

The center back appeared skeptical, if nothing else. 

“Ingrid, are you sure? This is a big decision, I do not want it to be something we decide lightly, and then you regret it later on. You would have to stop playing for upward of a year, it might end up being very rough, I know that–” Mapi just keeps going on and on, and after a moment the Norwegian has to stop her, a hand on her wife’s knee. 

“I have thought about it. And we can talk more about it, sure, but I have definitely thought about it. If we started a transfer soon in the new year, we could have the baby in the winter of next, and by the time the new season rolls around I should be good to come back fully. My contract runs for long enough that it would work, and I spoke to Jonatan already about a renewal after that. I think it makes sense to do it now,” Ingrid explained, as the Spaniard listened to her thoughtfully. 

“You have thought about it,” she concedes, trying not to allow herself to grow too excited. The thought of a baby, her own baby with Ingrid, was more than something to be thrilled about. 

“The only thing is…” Ingrid trails off, and the amber eyed woman’s eyebrows furrow in an instant, as she leans in toward the Norwegian. 

“What is it?” She asked softly, the care in her voice quite clear. 

“I don’t think I would want to do it more than once. At least not right now…after I retire perhaps? But I don’t want to take off playing like that a whole second time,” she admitted, and Mapi’s entire body softened. 

“That is completely understandable. We can start with the one, and go from there,” she replied very matter-of-factly. Ingrid bit her lip just slightly, feeling a flush rise up in her cheeks because of the excitement. 

“Does this mean we’re having a baby?” She asked, her voice filled with hope. Mapi appeared to be tearing up beside her as well, a surprise considering that the brunette was not usually a crier. 

“I think we might be,” the center back confirmed, as both of their hearts flew with excitement. 

—

“Are you sure I can’t come in?” Mapi pleaded for what was probably the seventeenth time in the span of a minute, and Ingrid took a deep breath before answering. 

“I said I wanted you out there, so just stay. I will be out in less than five minutes, I know you can go longer than five minutes without seeing me!” The dark haired woman called back from behind the closed door. 

The Norwegian was in the bathroom, having just peed on a stick, while her wife camped right outside the door, her cheek pressed against the wood. Ingrid had said she wanted to do this alone, and Mapi respected that…almost. 

But at least her incessant pestering would be good practice for when the baby came. 

If…if there was even a baby to come. Ingrid didn’t really feel all that different since her insemination two weeks ago, which felt more like a bad sign than a good one. Surely she would have felt different if she was pregnant, right? 

The doctor did say that there was a chance it wouldn’t work on the first try, but the thought made Ingrid far too discouraged to even begin to think of. She would cross that bridge if she came to it, she decided. 

“Three minutes is up!” Mapi called out from behind the closed door, her clock app open. 

“Okay, I’m looking,” Ingrid called out, while the Spaniard paced back and forth outside the door. She wanted to respect the Norwegian’s boundaries, she really did, but she was equally as eager as her wife to know if they were pregnant. 

After the taller woman had said she was going to check, the silence in their house seemed to stretch for an endless amount of time. The brunette waited with her breath held, and as the time stretched on longer and longer she began to grow more and more worried that it was not going to be a positive result. 

Just as she was about to say something though, the door to the bathroom went flying open, and the dark haired woman was shoving the pregnancy test in her face. 

“It is positive!” She squealed, clapping her hands together as Mapi took the test, staring down at it with huge eyes. 

“It worked?!” She asked, looking up at Ingrid with alarm. When the green eyed woman nodded, tears immediately began to well up in her eyes. The Norwegian’s excitement dulled just slightly, suddenly concerned about the Spaniard beginning to cry. 

“No, no, amor, it is good! It is a good result, no?” Ingrid asked, gripping her wifes shoulders as Mapi nodded her head insistently, fat, bumble bee like tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“It’s a perfect result!” She sobbed, blubbered practically, and Ingrid looked at her wife as though she had grown a second head. 

Mapi was not a crier. The Spaniard was typically a very happy person, and when she was not, it wasn’t typical to find her crying. Ingrid was pretty sure she could count on both hands the number of times she had seen the center back cry, even now that they were married. 

So to see her crying was…unusual, if not a tiny bit alarming. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, as Mapi reaches down to touch her hand gently to Ingrid’s stomach, and she’s crying and smiling brightly all at the same time, somehow.

“I am SO happy,” she replied easily, and Ingrid felt herself relaxing as she realized that they were happy tears, and that everything was okay. 

“Hola mi sol, we are so excited to meet you, we are so thrilled that you are here,” Mapi whispered to Ingrid’s stomach, and the Norwegian now found herself tearing up as she realized what this really meant. 

They were having a baby. 

—

The decision was made not to tell the team until Ingrid was thirteen weeks along. 

All of the necessary staff was informed, and the Norwegian had been cleared to continue playing as she usually did, if not a bit more on the light side. But it was nothing to arouse attention, and honestly the pregnancy had been going very smoothly. She hardly had any symptoms, and if it were not for the continued positive tests and the fact that her breasts were so tender, she would not have believed she was pregnant. 

But the thing that is absolutely going to break their cover? 

Mapi fucking León. 

In the last several weeks, the brunette had gone from her usual, slightly emotionally repressed self, to a complete and utter puddle. 

All of the sudden she was crying at the world's most random things. A cute cat video, Alexia saying she had a good day at training, Jana announcing her renewal at Barcelona. 

Which was very cute…if not for the fact that she had already known about the announcement for several weeks now already. And all of the girls were starting to grow 

“Mapi, they’re going to catch onto us,” Ingrid whispered harshly to her wife as they walked out to the car, her gaze more than a little judgemental. The amber eyed woman looked back at her with absolutely no amusement, clearly not thrilled by the feedback. 

“I do not know what to tell you amor I cannot just turn it off! I don’t know how you do it,” she grumbled as a stray tear leaked out of her eye, and Ingrid shot her a look. 

“What do you mean–how I do it?” She questioned with a raised brow, and Mapi shrugged, gesturing wildly with her hands. 

“Oh I don’t know - you cry more than me!” She announced, and the dark haired woman looked over at her as she sat down in the car. 

“Not right now I don’t!” Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh as her wife made an indignant noise next to her, but had absolutely no comeback for that. 

—

“Shh! I can hear them walking in, get it together!” 

Mapi and Ingrid turned to one another as they heard someone whisper scream that, in the direction of what sounded suspiciously like the locker room. 

As it turns out, Mapi’s behavior had begun to worry not just some of their teammates…but rather all of them. They had all stayed late one day to discuss, and decided that the best course of action was to ask the Spaniard if everything was okay. They decided to do it as a team, as a show of support. 

They weren’t sure what was going on with the center back, but she was very clearly going through something, in their eyes. They did not want it to go unnoticed or undiscussed. 

Which was how Mapi and Ingrid walked hand and hand into a changing room intervention, when the green eyed woman was only nine weeks pregnant. 

And really, looking back it was a miracle they had managed to last as far as they did, given how strange the brunette was acting. 

Which led them to right here, right now, standing in front of their entire time, who were all looking at Mapi with varying levels of concern. 

“Uh…hi guys?” Mapi asked more than said her greeting, and it was Alexia who stepped up and forward to greet her friend, clearly the leader of whatever this conversation is going to be. 

“Hi Mapi. We need to talk to you,” the captain explained as she looked around at the group, who all nodded at her. 

“We are worried about you Mapi. Clearly something is going on, and that is okay! We want to be here, support you, however we can. But we can’t help if we don’t know what is going on,” Alexia’s words were soothing, and the Spanish center back could feel the panic inside of her growing larger with the minute. 

She really was not a good liar. She wasn’t the worst liar, but she wasn’t a good one either. 

She considered telling them that it was something private, but that was only going to start more discussion and concern among the team. All of the girls look worried, and she feels bad for concerning them with her behavior, even if it was accidental. 

But oh god, Ingrid is going to be furious if she tells them, Mapi is sure. 

When the brunette chances a glance at her wife, she’s surprised to find that the Norwegian doesn’t seem annoyed but rather amused by the whole thing. More than likely, she, like Mapi, realized that they were fighting a losing battle of trying to keep this a secret. 

When a question forms on the amber eyed woman’s face, Ingrid responds with a small nod, and Mapi knows that she has her permission. 

She lets out a sigh, rubbing her hand over her face before she looks back at her team. They are all looking at her with confusion, and she decides to just tell it to them straight. 

“We are pregnant!” She announces, looking at Ingrid briefly, before she looks back to her team. 

Everyone seems to be stunned into complete and utter silence. Someone lets out a gasp, and Alexia’s jaw looks as though it would be on the floor if it were not still attached to her cheek. 

The blonde captain looks from Mapi’s face to her stomach and back again, unable to gather up any words for a few seconds. 

“You are pregnant?!” She asks in complete disbelief, and the center back blanches at the comment, her own jaw dropping open in shock as she looks down at her own stomach, as though checking to make sure that she wasn’t actually pregnant. 

“What? No! Ingrid is, not me!” She rushed to amend, frantically gesturing to her wife, and the midfielder looked from her best friend to her best friend’s wife, who went from looking unimpressed by her wife’s gesturing to holding up her hands as though to say surprise! to the whole team. 

“You are pregnant?” Alexia repeats, except this time it is directed at Ingrid and not the brunette standing next to her. The Norwegian blushes, before she nods her head in the affirmative. 

“I am. It was a little early still, I am only nine weeks along. We weren’t planning on telling anyone until I was done with the first trimester, but apparently someone can’t keep a lid on any secret ever,” Ingrid explained to the collective, still holding Mapi’s hand. 

When she focuses back on Alexia though, she finds that the Spanish captain appears to be deep in thought. 

“Are you not happy Ale?” Mapi asked suddenly, and there is insecurity laced in her voice that the whole team can tell. That seems to break the blonde out of her trance, and she jumps to shake her head. 

“No, I am thrilled for the both of you!” She explains, and her tone is nothing but genuine. 

“Then what is wrong? You look like you are doing mental math,” the amber eyed woman comments nervously, still a little confused and worried. 

“I’m just–Ingrid is the pregnant one, no?” Alexia receives confirmation of this when they both nod. 

“Then why the hell are you the one that is crying all the time! Isn’t that supposed to be her job?” The captain points out, and Ingrid’s face raises in triumph as Mapi’s face falls in annoyance. 

“That is exactly what I have been saying Ale!” The Norwegian gloated happily, while Mapi crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

“I have recently converted to being an empath! I have to sympathize with her pain!” She cried, and received twenty two equally unimpressed gazes staring right back at her. She deflates like a balloon at the pressure, throwing her hands up. 

“Okay fine, you all win! I’m just weird, I do not know!” She finally admitted, not knowing what else to say. That seemed to make everyone happy, as the whole team stood with excitement, making their way over to hug both the Spaniard and the Norwegian. 

“I can’t wait, we are going to have a Blaugrana baby!” Pina squealed, and at those words Alexia lit up like a child on Christmas, realization dawning on her face as she turned back to the couple. 

“Oh my god!” She properly squealed, taking both Mapi and Ingrid by surprise. The two looked at one another before they looked back at Alexia. 

“What is it capitana?” The dark haired woman asked, shaking her head slightly in confusion. 

“I AM GOING TO BE A TÍA!”

---

Note: Since I know someone might ask - if you would like to read the fic of when Elena meets the Barcelona girls for the first time as a baby, it can be found on ao3 at I Wanna Thank You Baby, You Make It Feel Like Christmas

#ingrid x mapi x daughter #ingrid engen #mapi leon #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #jana fernandez #claudia pina

[wilwywaylan]

Happy Barricade Day where our lovely characters have fun in the park and go to a protest that goes perfectly well before going to the park and laying in the grass and everything is perfect and...

I had that idea floating around since Feuilly's week last year, and this is as good a Barricade Day drawing as any :D I call it the "Because" drawing because of the pose they used during the song "Because" in the movie "Across The Universe".

That one took "only" 19 days to do, and I'm very, very proud of it !!!

Bahorel's awesome shirt comes from @crow-songs-at-dawn.

Happy Pride, everyone !

That one also has a text by @crow-songs-at-dawn that goes with it !

--

Nothing or no-one could resist Prouvaire's puppy eyes. This was a well-known fact among the Amis : when their resident dreamer wanted something really, really badly, he'd use his ultimate weapon. Even R knew to stop ranting about the bleakness of life and the futility of the cosmos when those heterochromatic eyes turned to him. So when Montparnasse felt the puppy eyes turn on him, he crossed his arms and shook his head.

No. It's not happening.

Please?

A picnic in a park with all your friends sounds like a special kind of hell. Will I have to sign a petition?

Three, at least.

Oh joy.

Must you be so dramatic? It's just for an afternoon, it'll change from your usual nightly hobbies, I know. Montparnasse rolled his eyes and :

I'm not sure I'd enjoy spending all that time having Enjolras look at me like a disapproving parent, or lecturing me about something or other that really doesn't need to be his problem.

I know he can be intense.

He likes the sound of his own voice. A bit like - whatshisname - Alphabet Boy. Prouvaire cocked his head and tried to hide a smile.

You're just being difficult on purpose. You like R and don't even try to deny it.

Not enough to share a martini with.

You don't share martinis with me, either.

You don't like martinis.

I like you when you've had a few, though…

Flirting won't get me to say yes to -

But Prouvaire didn't let Montparnasse say another word before pushing him down on the bed and kissing him. They were still undressed and it was a sunny summer morning, and kissing Montparnasse was always one of Prouvaire's favourite things to do. Usually because it got his grumpy night-owl boyfriend to mellow out and smile. Ah, there was the smile he was looking for, along with a crinkle in those dark eyes.

Me trash-talking your friends turns you on a little, does it?

Only because I know you're not really serious.

Is that a challenge? Alright then. Someone really should tell Pontmercy that the entire "starving student with a heart of gold" aesthetic wasn't cool even when it was.

No-one says "cool" anymore, 'Parnasse.

Of course they do. What they don't say anymore is anything on the lines of "fantastic" or "amazing", or whatever else Mothman seems to have read in Pride and Prejudice. Or those wierd interjections Joly seems to emit like some sort of human shaped infrawave.

Prouvaire couldn't help but smile and placed a kiss on Montparnasse's collarbone.

You're horrible.

Promise, I won't tell them you find me hilarious.

I'm dating a criminal, I like to live dangerously.

I applaud your bravery. But I'm still not spending the afternoon with them. Seeing so much sweetness makes my teeth ache.

Cosette and Marius are adorable, I know.

Still amazes me she'd choose him, she seemed to be the only sensible one of your group. I suppose appearences are decieveing, she chose Eponine as well, after all.

So did you at some point, if rumours are true. Did Montparnasse feel the tell-tale signs of a blush creeping up his neck? If he did, he ignored them and countered with a cocky grin.

The same rumours like those who say you and Muscle Man had a burning romance before he turned his sights to the resident squirrel?

Well, you've seen the muscles Bahorel has, you can understand the attraction.

Hmmm… I've seen more attractive since.

Now who's attempting flattery?

Prouvaire managed to slip out of bed and out of Montparnasse's arms. It was soon going to be time to leave if they were going to be on time for the picnic. Everyone would be bringing a dish and he'd spent a good chunk of the previous evening making rice salad and some special brownies. Enjolras would frown at the extra ingredient but even he would eat some because he was nowhere near as tight-laced as Montparnasse tended to think. Rummaging through his drawers while getting dressed he found something he'd forgotten he ever had and threw it towards the bed, smiling as the other young man caught the object. And then turned those pretty brown eyes towards him.

How are heart-shaped sunglasses supposed to make me change my mind?

They're not, I just think you'd look really really good in them. You'll be turning heads.

I do that already.

Sue me for wanting to show you off. There came an almost amused laugh. This was a very good sign - he could read Montparnasse like an open poetry book and they'd be on their way to Montsouris Park together. He just needed a little more time.

Come on, get up.

Jehan. I'm not coming.

Please? Don't you want to see how verbose R can get after a couple of space brownies?

Does the man ever shut up is the thing I'm more interested in.

Bossuet and him have been known to talk an entire night, I've been witness to a few of those conversations, and Musichetta has said so herself.

Why are all the women in this friend goup attracted to wierdos?

Says the one who dated Eponine.

Better dating 'Ponine than, I don't know, Pontmercy. I'd have died of boredom.

Oh, you'd have found a thousand ways to spice things up. So, will you be wearing black, or black to our little picnic?

I hate you so much.

Montparnasse finally relented and got out of the messy bed and started to dig through his clothes. Those damn puppy eyes had won again.

I swear if Gavroche says one single thing about these sunglasses, I'm gone.

You get riled up so easy by a ten year-old.

He's extremely annoying. Perhaps Feuilly can take him on his next boring museum trip and lose him there. Prouvaire came closer and grinned, playing with the heart-shaped sunglasses on Montparnasse's nose.

You're finding less and less reasons to rag on my friends, it's funny.

Some are less annoying than others.

You didn't find anything to say about Courfeyrac, I noticed.

He wears a bowtie.

The audacity~

----

Happy Barricade Day, everyone :D

#les miserables #les mis #barricade day #barricade day 2024 #enjolras #grantaire #bossuet #musichetta #joly #gavroche #bahorel #feuilly #cosette #marius pontmercy #eponine thenardier #montparnasse #jehan prouvaire #combeferre #courfeyrac #jude the cat #lucky the cat #tangerine the cat #fluffy the terrible the cat #montparnasse the cat #mary shelley the cat #ébène the cat #my Drawings

[olderthannetfic]

Honestly, instead of (only) blaming the author… I'd rather like to ask: What the fuck was the publisher thinking? And where the fucking was the sensitivity reader? I constantly see talks about sensitivity readers for books with controversial and historical and cultural content, especially it features front and center. So where was one?

Let's pivot for just a moment here.

The publisher is Random house, which does have a catalogue of queer and poc writing. With how much shit these two groups experience in publishing, you'd expect there to maybe be extra support or something, at least when it comes to putting the metaphorical foot in your mouth after stepping on a figurative controversy landmine.

Why the fuck did they let any of that slide, and only NOW doing damage control? Did they think that Oh the author's Chinese, why bother? There are several parts that hit you during reading, and this should have been caught, and either been removed or edited to not turn into a complete pitfall. Don't make me mention the advertising.

I've literally never met a person who knew everything of their own ancestral history, or was completely accurate in what they knew. Even people who've lived through history don't know everything. Why do people believe that immigrants do? Speaking from personal experience as well.

I personally don't even think it's bad she wanted to write about that, and did it for her family.

But wasn't there a moment they went: Ok... wait. We respect you wanna write this, but... this could really end badly because of the actual historical weight. How about we have a few history and sensitivity readers check it over? Maybe the act of human experimentation of your own people shouldn't be put in a scenario where the FMC immediately after thinks about wanting to kiss the lips of the green eyed guy ordering said experimentation. Maybe it isn't going to work that well if you already told people that this is based on the real historical slaughter of humans in the 1930-40's?

Where was the editor in this? The sensitivity reader? Was there no one who said, ok wait stop. Is this written in a way that doesn't completely crash the car?

I just wanna take the publisher and shake them. I want to shake them and tell them that nobody's infallible, and that yes, even writing about your own history, culture and ancestry can end up with a lot of bullshit when you don't know better. What's the point of a publisher if they help you when it's too late to fix it? Ancestral history also doesn't mean you have free reign, and everyone else, your people included, shouldn't get an opinion. This isn't someone writing a name wrong by a letter, or accidentally writing the wrong dish as the national dish of a country. Where the fuck was the publisher in all this? Especially for a debut author!!!

God, fuck publishers for real.

--

I'm not really up on what's going on behind the scenes at big publishers these days, but I have the impression that one of their tactics in recent decades is just to find a lot of very youthful debut authors who will feel aspirational for the target audience (while also inciting a lot of jealousy, naturally), do very minimal editing of their manuscripts, and let anybody who doesn't hit it out of the park on the first try disappear into obscurity.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

#sorry i got really into my feelings about mark hoffman again #the very specific version of him in my brain that i really really wish i had the time and energy to properly share with you guys #saw #well until i muster the energy to explode all of my feelings out into a fic. if you want to TRY and understand #know that my three biggest hoffman fic insps right now are as follows #your best kept secret hoffman. a series of mistakes hoffman. and rushed like a dreadful wind hoffman. #there is a very clear throughline just know i am extremely emotionally compromised rn #thinking about theee fics vs the canon path hoffman spirals down #something something the absolute tragedy of watching a man's descent into madness #the transformation of a man into a monster #and what could have saved him from himself and kramer's corruption #sorry i'm rambling so much oh my god i was just having such a crying fit out of nowhere about this #do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind. #the script version of him fucks with me so bad. the crazed rankings and the longer hair and him not being well kept anymore #it's impossible to think he didn't know he was deteriorating #fuuuck okay i need to either chill or write a whole longfic rn #i project on that guy so much i truly don't know if i could properly write my vision of him #until i do something more substantial the full extent of my hoffman exists for me and my boyfriend only. they get me like no one else #well ginny and jenna also get me. please read best kept secret and a series of mistakes Oh My God #where am i going with this. i like tag rambling actually this is a nice way to do it without forcing EVERYONE to read my delirium #anyways if you've read all of this i think i love you? feel free to dm me about hoffman and my very specific headcanons and aus #maybe soon i'll try and start writing my fics about this tragic man #i could never say any of this on twitter btw they'd string me up for my opinions on him as a sad wet beast who could have been fixed #if only he hadn't been weaponized first #god i'm too tired to even be as embarrassed about this as i should be. thought i unlearned cringe already #but i've been spending way too much time on twitter and they HAAATE hoffman there #rip. i know it's not that serious but i'm sensitive rn and hate feeling lonely in my thoughts #ok bye for real otherwise i'll never shut up. i might tag ramble more often bc this was therapeutic in a way i needed badly #cat chat

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

#today's gone Badly and i'm upset but instead of venting abt it i'm gonna channel that energy into doing a bit of tag rambling abt Boothill #well. less abt Him and more abt uh. self-analyzing my anxiety surrounding contributing to fandoms. he's just today's catalyst #like. i know it's mostly a me thing. i'm hypersensitive to criticism and very conflict avoidant + socially anxious + perfectionistic etc. #so I'm the one that keeps myself from posting more stuff out of fear of being criticized or called-out for what i've made #bc inevitably Someone's gonna see it and think its OOC or a problematic take or they'll misread my intent. etc etc what have you #but like. that's inevitable. there's no way to communicate every single thing with all of the nuance required to avoid misunderstandings #and other times it's not a misunderstanding it's just a difference of opinions and that's Fine!! there's no accounting for personal taste #there's no accounting for several things actually. taste‚ bias‚ lore-knowledge‚ differing levels of chronic-online-ness‚ etc #so this isn't me complaining abt the state of fandom culture (although i do think. sometimes. ppl take shit a bit too seriously) #but anyways all of this is mostly just anxiety-fueled. it's not like i very often actually even receive negative feedback or anything #if anything ppl tend to tell me that i'm overthinking it and killing my own fun and worried that my stuff is more OOC than it is #which like. yeah. Yeah u right :) but that's just the way that i am! always losing the idgaf war i suppose #anyways what's Boothill got to do w this ur wondering. well. i've been thinking abt the quickly emerging concept that he's illiterate. #and it just. has me feeling a lot of ways. and watching ppl disagree over it has me feeling some Bad ways. bc it's def a loaded topic! #if you'll pardon the pun there. and i don't rlly have anything new to add other than that i'm conflicted abt it. #like yeah i saw the leaks days ago. of him mentioning 'not hitting the books' much as a child when we ask him why he sends voice messages #or voice Transcriptions ig. ykwim. and like. *braces for impact* ...i liked it? like. it doesn't feel right to call it endearing #i'm not trying to infantilize him. ok that's not the right word either but ugh. you know? what i mean?? who am i kidding even i don't know #it's not quite right to say that it feels like Representation either. but it's something close i guess #as a southern person myself who didn't receive a 'complete' education due to factors that weren't to do with my intelligence #the concept of seeing him as a capable force to be reckoned with and respected who also happens to have not received much formal education #i like that. i do. but there's so many issues w it at the same time. like. as i said‚ being southern myself has me Wary of the way Hoyo is- #writing him. as well as of the way that the fandom is taking the bits of his lore and running away w them. and i'm Very aware of how ppl- #will see a southern character and be All Too Eager to agree that they're lacking intelligence based on our Redneck™ stereotype #sigh. and before we even go too far with this. it's not even confirmed that hes completely illiterate. which is a valid criticism i've seen #there's Multiple reasons that could make him prefer voice to text. but regardless. i'm just worried that ppl will misconstrue my intentions #like. example: that edit i made the other day of him saying 'no thanks i can't read'. wasn't me playing into the stereotype of- #'haha dumb country boy can't read!' it was. in my eyes. something he'd say as a joke to make light of a potential insecurity #like. i think there's far more depth to Boothill's character if ppl could look past the surface. and i dont wanna contribute to the problem #but sometimes ppl Will have stereotypical traits and i wish the same could apply to characters as long as it's done Thoughtfully.

[suncaptor]

I think calling Feferi going to attack Eridan like that self-defense because he assaulted Sollux IS a bit of a stretch, considering, like, Sollux VERY much did, like, agree to duel him. Understandable revenge? The most logical thing she could think of because she took his whole "side to Jack" thing seriously? Not worth being murdered as a 13 year old over? All true. But self-defense. definitely perhaps a stretch! he did not go to attack her until she was coming at him with a weapon!

#like feferi and sollux both being like ohhh the most obvious and reasonable thing to do right now is kill eridan #like sollux. is being so. like he's like i'll duel him. dude i do not think sollux was trying to kill eridan they were being dumb #likewise i don't think eridan meant to hurt sollux badly #the main thing that happened in this sequence is eridan was suddenly overpowered with the weapon he had which resulted in well. #the murder of his friends! #like eridan was. at his core. same as when he dueled sollux on his planet. same as his so called genocide devices while actively stressed #trying to prevent mass death #very clearly having a paper thin facade for desperate cries for help. feferi not seeing that is silly but understandable #her immediate reaction of 'killing him' instead of like. anything else. speaks VOLUMES about her. like #i cannot express how much she did not have to do that #also saying that it's self defense to subdue someone who assaulted someone else (WHO WAS ALSO ATTACKING THEM!) #by trying to Kill Them is just. not something i think i could agree with tbh. like unless there's imminent threat #is it understandable? is she 13? does she deserve to die? all obvious answers #but eridan killing her when she was coming At Him was definitely an Impulsive reaction to being attacked -- ie self defense #while she jumped there with a few extra steps #granted I don't think he wanted to kill her either like! I think when his attack on her killed her it was. horror inducing like man #like the point is don't give 13yos murder weapons! unstable mr eridan ampora as a child did not need gun/wand gun esque power #ik ik they were playing a high fantasy violent game don't at me but that's the point lol #but to try to get feferi off like in a court of law on self defense there i mean. factor her age etc in makes sense. but on the circumstanc #itself? well. only if she were like. a cop. or it was on her property. eridan on the other hand? yeah. self defense #not his attack on sollux though I do think that's a little bit like. sollux did engage with him #i think about it so much though like. what if sollux and feferi weren't together right at that moment when eridan went to them to try to #get help (say he was a risk to all of them bc of his deep hopelessness 🙄🙄) #the way that him and sollux were like. not interacting on the level feferi was. the way feferi had eridan's also desire to interact with #sollux like he did on his planet overriding his direct purpose. the way no one understood what was really going on #the thing about all of it is it's tragic! those are babies. anyways #eridan ampora #feferi peixes #feferi #eridan

[wizardnuke]

i am so over today i want to go home. and sleep for a week. fuckin ouch

#still thinking about that stupid fucking dog. oh my GOD bro #i don't feel bad at all like 1) don't let ur dog run around outside unattended 2) i CANNOT express enough that on top of #them allowing that. they live DIRECTLY beside a high school. teenagers drive on that road every day. #and your hazard of a dog apparently tries to dart across roads like a fucking squirrel #obviously i feel bad for the baby but like. dude. that could have gone so badly? for her or for me and my bf? #i now have further evidence that im a good driver that doesn't swerve. but i don't wanna fucking hit ur dog either. #so glad she's okay bc that would have been devastating for her owners and they were VERY sweet to us about it #alls well that ends well she's just a little road rashed because i clipped her at 30mph or so. poor thing got pingponged across the road #which is a million times better than going up and over her but still. auugh baby. don't leave ur fucking dogs unattended outside. #9pm at night. #she was Shockingly okay. like she wasn't limping or acting like she was in pain at all even tho she was scratched up. very happy about that #very spooked! very spooked baby she was not happy but she wasn't hurt. like it wouldn't have been my fault but #i would have felt TERRIBLE about it. like sorry i hit the baby but like NINE IN THE EVENING? OUTSIDE DOG? THAT BOLTS ACROSS ROADS? #also for reference she's a big girl which is good for her. a smaller dog would not have been okay. #but big dog vs small car. come on man

[slugcatmusings]

Another thing me and my sister also talked about, during our convo mentioned in the last post?  Chickens will get broody about anything remotely egg-shaped and sometimes smol animals like kittens, just try to tuck them underneath themselves to keep them warm.

Now imagine a big vulture brooding over their probably ugly hatchlings and a couple slugpups that crawled into the nest too.

#rain world #not-so-serious musings #broody vultures #this could go either REALLY badly for the slugpup #or very well #either way it's weirdly cute to me #weirdly wholesome

[gideonisms]

waiting for my brother to get back from his in-laws' and I've just consumed a dubious burrito I bought yesterday at a gas station. surely this will have no effects on my digestive system!

#my main problem in life is frozen burritos are filling and the texture is so nice. but half the time they do fuck me up #maybe he'll bring back some rolls or something! #i could have also gone to his in-laws' but they fight all the time and they don't like him #he's been gone for 5 hours it's either going well or very badly

[lionblaze03-2]

personally I don’t hate gray wing nearly as much as everyone else because he’s a great example of having rose colored glasses just because ‘well, he’s family’, and not realizing until far too late that that essentially ruined his life and made him amount to almost nothing. Because clear sky is his brother, he wants to assume the best of him. Surely, my brother would never. Surely he didn’t mean it like that. Surely he’ll do better next time. He’s my brother. He COULDN’T be a bad guy. So he keeps giving him chances, over and over and over again, until it’s completely destroyed him. Until he can no longer breathe, his lungs full of toxic smoke that clear sky abandoned him to breathe in, until he is under his claws, nearly killed under the moonlight, until his people are battered again and again, until borders become inevitable. But he never, ever realizes, because- it’s his brother. Surely, his brother will do better next time. Surely, he didn’t mean it. Surely, he will change.

And believing that is the death of him.

#It was always to my understanding that he died early BECAUSE of the lung damage #And that the fire and leaving gray wing behind was on clear sky. I don’t remember how but I remember it was #Clear sky’s actions got gray wing killed in the end. But he loved his stupid brother so much he was blind to see it until he literally died #Hell. And even after. #Because- they’re brothers. Surely. Hell do better next time. #Like people who keep forgiving their family over and over #Ohhh but hes changed!!! No he hasn’t. He may pretend for 10 minutes but he’s going back after another #but it’s my mom/dad/brother… I HAVE to have a relationship with them… because… yknow… family…. #When really the best thing to do when you have a clear sky is cut that fucker off #Because he will slowly drain the life out of you and everyone around you #BUT. I don’t HATE the person who doesn’t cut off their family member #I feel SORRY for them. That they can’t realize how badly they’re hurting themselves keeping this up #So. I don’t hate gray wing. #Clear sky is a bastard and I’d say I hate him as a person tho. but not as a character either #Because he’s a villain and those motivate plot. I know they change their mind later. But I didn’t. I didn’t forget #And I choose to believe the powers that be didn’t either. Given skyclan all dies within the next decade and stays gone for generations #But I guess none of that is CANON text. It’s just also not NOT canon. It’s not an AU au because it like #COULD be why. They just didn’t say one way or the other #Anyway gray wing is really just like. A pathetic wet mop of a guy #Definitely no wise sage #But I do not hate him. I cried when he died at the end of path of stars #I pity that he never got to live a life free of all that toxicity because ‘but we family’. #Like a lot of older. Perhaps religious raised. People I grew up around with shitty family members #No you don’t owe it to anybody no you don’t have to respect thy father and mother if they don’t respect you #You never asked to be born. Etc etc #But that. They gave me something and family is family and blood is thicker than water attitude #Is very common around rural religious areas. Which is. What I think of the clans as. Backwoods evangelicals #ESPECIALLY in the early days #Well. Bulls’ shit is thicker than blood. And that’s what your life is gonna be full of if you stick with toxic people because of blood #Anyway whatever none of this means anything. Just. Saying words

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

#aita #am i the asshole #the saga of proposal anon

[cloudybarnes]

new beginnings

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: after theo very unexpectantly breaks up with you, you try your best to pick yourself back up and move on. theo, on the other hand, seems to be having a harder time of that.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Masterlist

part two :)

✰  ✰  ✰

“(Y/N), you’ve got to get out of bed at some point.” Hermione said. She was sitting on the side of your bed while you laid fully wrapped under the covers. Hermione gently tugged the blanket down from your chin, but you whined a little in protest. 

“‘Mione, I seriously can’t do this yet.”

Theo, your boyfriend of over a year had broken up with you only a few short days ago. You’d been in bed ever since, heartbroken over what could have been. 

“(Y/N), I know you’re upset, but you have to get up. I can’t let you live the rest of your life in bed! Don’t you know how badly your bum would hurt from laying all of your life?” Hermione joked. 

A small smile grew on your lips. “Yeah, that would be pretty tragic. I have too nice of a butt to let that happen.”

Hermione laughed. “There she is! I’ve missed your little jokes. Ron and Harry have become quite boring without you around. I think they’re worried about you.” 

You groaned. “Nooo. I hate when people worry about me. It’s just so awkward when I have to be like ‘I’m fine’, ‘no really, I’m fine’.”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, are you?”

You sighed, pulling the covers down from your chin. You looked up at her, a forlorn look on your face. “Definitely not, but I suppose you’re right. I don’t want to be stuck in here for the rest of my life. I just, I just don’t think I can handle seeing him right now.”

Hermione looked at you sadly. “I know. I hate seeing you so upset like this. God, what I would do to put a hex on that boy. He’s quite deserving of it, I would say. Maybe a rat’s tail, or a snake tongue.”

You giggled and sat up in bed. “Or how about we make him bald, or worse, blonde.” 

Hermione laughed at that. “Oh, Godric, then we’d have another Draco running around. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Me either,” you laughed. Slowly, your smile dropped. “I just hate him. Well, no, I don’t hate him. And I hate that! I hate that even after breaking my heart I still love him and long for him.”

Hermione sighed, “I’m sorry, (Y/N/N), I wish I could say something or do something to make this better, I just really don’t know what.”

You shrugged, “yeah, it is what it is. It’s not your fault he’s an ass.”

She chuckled. “So, what do you say? You wanna try to get down to the great hall before dinner starts? I’m sure the guys would like to see you again.” 

You thought it over for a minute. You really had missed your friends. Other than Hermione, you’d ostracized yourself from everyone just to avoid Theo. 

But were you really ready to see him again? You didn’t think you would ever be ready to see him again. 

“You know what,” you stated, “I am gonna go to dinner tonight. And I’m gonna ignore him and see my friends who I’ve missed and ignore the hell out of him because he’s an ass and why should I be the one who has to stay in bed all day?”

“Woohoo!” Hermione cheered. “You’re amazing, let’s get you showered and dressed. I hate to say it, but if you’re gonna get back into the world, you need to wash your hair.” 

You chuckled as you picked up a piece of hair to inspect it. “Yeah, okay. Shower first, look really pretty, eat dinner, come back. Piece of cake.” 

You pushed the covers off of you as Hermione stood from the bed. 

She said, “I’m gonna grab your clothes, so just get in the shower. We shouldn’t be too late to dinner that way.”

You nodded and headed to the bathroom. You were gonna go in there, socialize with your friends, reassure them you were fine, and everything would go back to normal. You hoped. 

✰  ✰  ✰

“(Y/N)!” Ginny shouted as you and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table. She stood up from her seat and pulled you right into a hug. 

Releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding, you smiled and held her even tighter in the hug. Ginny was an amazing friend to you. She had tried her best to see you, but you didn’t let anyone in. Only Hermione since she shared the room with you. 

Pulling away, Ginny dragged you to sit down next to her. Hermione followed suit and sat on the other side of you. “Oh, we’ve missed you so much, (Y/N/N). We’ve all been so worried about you, haven’t we?”

Harry and Ron sat across from you. They both nodded their heads, agreeing with Ginny. 

“Yeah, what an ass,” Ron scoffed. “Honestly, someone needs to knock that bloke down from his high horse. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, (Y/N/N).”

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he pushed some mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Theodore is a walking red flag. I for one am not sorry for him. He lost a good girl and he’s gonna regret what he’s done.”

You smiled at them. “Yeah, I am pretty awesome. Thanks guys.”

They chuckled and continued eating. Merlin knows those two could eat an entire quidditch field full of food. 

“Ahem,” a throat cleared from behind you. 

Turning around, you saw Enzo standing there sheepishly. 

“Uh,” he stuttered, “hey, (Y/N).” 

“Oh,” you said. “Uh, hi Enzo. Do you need something?” You couldn’t hide the crack in your voice. Damn it.

Enzo was probably your favorite of Theo's friends. He was always the one you had most in common with, and therefore connected with pretty easily. You’d never hung out one on one, so you couldn’t really say he was your friend. 

“I-no I don’t need something, per say. I just wanted to talk to you. Alone, if, uh, that’s alright.” 

You looked back at your friends, unsure if you should talk with him or not. They all seemed to be the same amount of weary as you were, but you were intrigued. 

“I don’t really want to talk to Theo, if that’s what this is.”

Enzo shook his head. “No! Ahem, no. I wanted to talk to you. To, uh, apologize kind of? I don’t know. It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me, this was silly, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine, Enzo,” you cut off his rambling. “I’ll speak with you.” You looked back at your friends as you stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

They nodded their heads as you let Enzo lead you away from the table and out the door. 

Once you two stood out in the hallway, Enzo kind of just shuffled his feet around, almost as if he was shying away from talking to you. 

“Am I supposed to say something first?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No, sorry,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just feel a little awkward. I know what happened between you and Theo, but I guess I just hoped that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

Your eyes softened a little at his confession. Enzo’s cheeks blushed a little as you stared at him. 

You sighed. You and Enzo really had been good friends, and you weren’t exactly keen on losing his friendship. 

“I mean,” he continued, “you’re the only one who doesn’t make fun of my poetry, you’re the one I go to when I want to talk about books or get recommendations from, and I just would hate to lose our friendship just because I’m friends with Theo as well.”

Your heart melted. “Enzo, of course I still want to be friends with you. I will admit, I was a little nervous you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore after Theo broke up with me. I really enjoy being your friend.”

Enzo smiled in relief. “Oh good. I thought this would be more awkward and a little bit more sad than how it’s actually going.”

You giggled. “Thank god. I don’t know what I would have done if I just had a real breakup as well as a friendship breakup.”

Enzo smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, I am really sorry about that. I don’t know why he would ever break up with you in the first place. You’re so kind, and I thought you brought the best out in him.”

You forced an awkward smile. You really did not want to be talking about Theo right now, especially not about how you made him a better person. 

Before you could reply, a voice yelled out from behind you. 

“Oi!”

Turning around, you could see Theo storming up towards you and Enzo. 

“What the fuck, mate?” Theo huffed as he got in between you and Enzo. 

“Woah!” You shouted, backing up as Theo got up into Enzo’s face.  “Theo, what are you doing?”

He ignored you and kept talking to Enzo. “Are you hitting on my girlfriend? Right after all the shit we just went through?”

“What?” Enzo squeaked. “I’m not hitting on her, I was just talking to her.”

You were pissed. Your fists balled up at your sides as you stomped up to Theo. You grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him away from Enzo. Theo didn’t see it coming, so he stumbled and fell back a couple of steps. 

“Get the hell away from him,” you growled. “And what the fuck is wrong with you, Theodore?” 

You got between Theo and Enzo, pushing your finger into your ex-boyfriend’s chest accusingly. 

“First,” you said, “you break up with me, break my heart, and then you have the fucking nerve to come up here all righteous and accuse Enzo of whatever the fuck you said, all while calling me your girlfriend when you’re the asshole who broke up with me!”

You glared at Theo, watching as his anger turned soft. “I am not your girlfriend anymore, Theodore Nott. You’re the one who made that happen, so you have no fucking right to come up in my conversations acting like I owe you anything.” 

“(Y/N),” he softly said. “I… I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have come out here all crazy. I just, I hate seeing you with anyone else, even if it’s one of my friends.” 

He turned to talk to Enzo, “I’m sorry, mate. Will you give us a few minutes?” 

Enzo nodded his head and gave you an awkward smile before heading back into the dining hall. 

You huffed, settling down a little as you stared at Theo. 

He looked tired. His eyes had circles underneath them, and his cheeks didn’t have their usual flush to them. He was as gorgeous as ever, but he looked drained. 

“You don’t look so good,” you pointed out, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Theo frowned and softly said, “neither do you.”

Your lips pulled tight in a frown. Theo didn’t need to know how much he had affected you with the breakup. 

You sighed, “what are you doing, Theo?”

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I, uh, I’m not really sure. I just didn’t like seeing you with Enzo.”

“Why? You broke up with me.”

Theo huffed, “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you with anyone else. It still feels like I’m supposed to be there. Like I’m supposed to be the one with you. I miss you.”

You shook your head as hurt started to creep back into your heart. “Don’t say things like that to me, Theo. Not after what you did. I loved you, and you broke up with me out of nowhere for no good reason, either.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to reach for you, but you shrugged off his hand. “I don’t know why I did what I did. I just know that I regret it like crazy. I want to be with you, (Y/N). I’ve always wanted to be with you, I was stupid to let you go. Can you forgive me?”

Your lips pulled tight. “Theo, I can’t just get back with you like this.” You said. “I don’t trust you anymore. You broke my heart, and broke my trust. You gave me no reason for the breakup, so who’s to say it won’t happen right after we get back together?”

He shook his head. “Dolcezza, no. I won’t do that to you, not again. What can I do to prove this to you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t get back with you. Not like this, and not so soon. You really hurt me, Theo.”

“Well, what if we try being friends at least?” He suggested. 

“You wanna be my friend?”

“No,” he said immediately. “But I’ll settle for being your friend for as long as it takes to win you back.” 

Your heart warmed at what he had said. Maybe you could try being friends with him. He did really hurt you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. 

“Okay,” you decided, “I’ll give you a chance to be my friend. Don’t hurt me again, Theodore, or I’ll get Ginny on you.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get my baby back. I can promise you that.” 

#AW SNAP #THERES ONE FROM THAT PROMPT LIST #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #ron weasly x reader #george weasley #fred weasly x reader #cedric diggory x reader

[satoruluvies]

pretty privilege

jjk boys when they get pretty privilege right in front of you.

includes: yuji, megumi, yuta, toge and ino

yuji: yuji is super kind and humble, also a bit oblivious when it comes to people treating him extra well or flirting with him. someone could ask him for his number and he'd probably assume this was a normal occurence because how else will you make friends without having their number at the very least right? however he isn't slow to realise that he alone was the one being approached, warmed up to and even being offered discounts for simple things and not you. he'd notice the way you'd look away and try distracting yourself while he was busy with yet another girl coming up to him. next time he promises himself not to entertain other people and politely decline them, focusing on telling you how much you mean to him instead.

megumi: megumi isn't stupid, he notices the little frown that would find itself on your pretty lips (you say otherwise but megumi thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen) whenever someone, yet again, comes up to him with a slightly bigger smile asking him for directions and some as far as asking him to walk them to their destination. he'd decline everytime though, of course he would. why would he entertain other people when you're right there? don't get me wrong he isn't rude, he'd show them the directions but not without pulling you closer or holding your hand a little tighter.

yuta: he'd stutter and badly too. sometimes even wanting to hide behind you when he's completely at a loss for words as the waitress offers him an extra plate of food on the house, strangely only for him. on days when he's a little bolder though, he'd accept the free gifts with a thanks and hand them to you. he'd be confused why he's being offered goodies and never you and upon explaining to him, he'd sheepishly try replicating the treatment he got saying something like “if they treat the people they find pretty like that then it's only right for me to treat you like that too, because i think you're very pretty.”

toge: we all know toge doesn't speak because of his cursed speech but his eyes do all the talking. his gaze becomes a little softer on seeing you looking down at your feet waiting for whoever approached him to go away. he isn't really registering what the other person says, his focus being all on you when suddenly he finds a phone being handed to him, the number tab open for him to put in his. he'd hold out his hand, shaking his head and point to you, pulling you closer and zipping down his jacket revealing his pretty marked mouth to place a kiss on your lips. on seeing your surprised expression his eyes turn into pretty cresents as he mutters “salmon roe” and somehow you understand everything he wants to convey to you.

ino: ino would nudge you in triumph with a smirk as the barista offers him his coffee on the house but he doesn't fail to notice the way your smile faltered a little upon hearing the offer. he'd then decline politely but when the barista insists, he pulls you closer and tells them that he comes in a pair so it's either they give you free coffee too or he pays for the both of you. and pay, he does. with your order in hand, the both of you walk out of the cafe as he brags about how pretty he is but also about how lucky he is to have someone prettier, that someone being you of course.

included ino this time bc he's growing on me !!

#jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk headcanons #yuji x reader #yuji fluff #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #yuta x reader #yuta fluff #yuuta x reader #yuuta fluff #toge x reader #toge fluff #inumaki x reader #ino x reader #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk boys #yuji x you #megumi x you #yuta x you #toge x you #ino x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond fic #aemond #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[screeching-bunny]

Need more of our yan slasher,he's so pookie,i wanna bite his cheeks (in a affectionate way) and cuddle with him until the end of times,he's such a cutie 😭💗

Yandere! Slasher Pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt. 1

After reading the message sent by Yandere! Slasher, everyone subconsciously looked at you. Never in your life did you want to go home more badly than you did right now. Why did you even decide to go to a party in the first place? You don’t even like people in general! You were definitely never going out to socialize with others after this. If only there were more booze around here you really didn’t want to handle this situation semi sober.

You: “... What are you all looking at me for, they gave out a very vague description of someone. This could literally be anyone in this room with similar features to me.”

The next minute the phone screen immediately lights up with a message.

Yandere! Slasher: “I’m talking about you.”

You: “...”

After a few more seconds of silence, you finally managed to suppress the fear and uneasiness in your heart. You took the phone from the person beside you and carefully looked back at the messages that were sent by Yandere! Slasher. Finally looking down at the text box you begin to slowly type a message.

You: “Sorry, I don’t like guys with dark hair.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I can always dye it.”

You: “I don’t like your face.”

Yandere! Slasher: “There’s always plastic surgery”

You: “How do I know that you're rich? What if you’re lying and actually not broke.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I’ll buy you whatever you want right now. I can even send you my credit card information if you decide to be with me.

Damn you were broke but not broke enough to allow yourself to be with some killer. If it weren’t for your morals you would have probably folded by now.

Yandere! Slasher: “Well it’s not like you have a choice anyways. I plan on making you my spouse either way. You can either come with me willingly or I could take you by force…. Well looks like you’re taking too long. I'll decide for you.”

With that text message sent, you immediately began to feel queasy. You were struggling to keep your eyes wide open and your body was beginning to become very sluggish. Slowly but surely your senses were starting to stop and the last thing that you were able to hear were the sound of your peers screaming for help. With one last attempt to get out of your situation, you try to slowly crawl away. Only for your attempts to be interrupted when someone gently picks you up. “You’re not going anywhere cutie.” and with that you were now fully unconscious.

—

The next morning you woke up with the world’s worst hangover in the world. Never in your life did you feel this fucked up and and groggy all at once. You begin to raise up your body but soon realize that your body was tightly restricted by some rope and you were wrapped in the arms of some guy. The immediate thought in your head was that this was, last night was either the kinkiest night of your life or some random weirdo had ended up kidnapping you. Due to your movements the man next to you begins to wake up and looks over to you with a smile on his face.

“Cutie! I’m so glad you’re awake. We have so many things that we need to discuss right now! I’ve been thinking about the names of our future kids. Do you have any preferences? I don’t really mind what we name them but I want a lot of kids! Wait! I’m being so inconsiderate right now. I never even asked you if you wanted kids. If you don’t like them we can adopt as many pets as we physically can and we–”

As he was rambling it finally hit you. He was the fucking weirdo from the night before. You wanted to fucking die. Never in a million years did you think that you’d have to deal with a serial killer and an extrovert at that. Maybe if you pretended to be deaf he would stop talking to you. You begin to look at him and begin to make gestures with your head and facial expressions to signify that you were deaf. Yandere! Slasher looks at you for a few minutes before laughing.

“Sweetie, that's not going to work. I’ve been stalking you for the last couple of years. I know that you’re not deaf. Besides I’ve looked at your medical, you're perfectly healthy right now. Which reminds me, my precious little darling must be starving right now. It’s my job as your future husband to take care of you. Now wait right here for me.”

With that he leaves you entrapped alone in the room. Although your eyes were still a little blurry you were still able to make out the contents of the room. Scanning the room, your eyes fell upon a glint of metal under a desk —a discarded tool left by neglect or chance. Adrenaline surged as you inched closer, your heart racing in synchrony with your movements. With trembling fingers, you grasped the tool, the cold touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Summoning every ounce of determination, you started sawing at the ropes, each movement a blend of agony and hope. The metallic smell of blood filled your nose as the sharp edges of the tool cut into your skin. With each passing second, the knots loosened, freedom within tantalizing reach. With one last rough movement you were able to be free of your binds. As you made your way towards the window. A creak soon shatters the silence and the door swings open. Revealing your kidnapper's looming silhouette.

“Look at you all covered in blood because I left the room. Did you really think I would leave the room without any monitors watching you? I was hoping that you wouldn't try to escape but I guess I’ll have to be training you from now on cutie. Guess I’ll have to punish you right now. Do me a favor and lay down won’t you?”

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere slasher

[mikanotes]

don’t even bother ft. aventurine x gn!reader — just something short bcs his va is too good at his job and him voicing that post made me go oh wow! warnings cursing, clingy aven and reader in denial about their feelings, one suggestive joke, badly written Sorry! this is very much dedicated to nour enjoy ur bf

The light of the sun indicates that the day has started much longer ago than you had originally thought. You cling onto sleep, nevertheless, not at all fond of the idea of facing the day properly.

“Alright. I understand.”

There isn’t need for any context for you to get that the second disruption of your attempts at going back to dreamland is a call concerning work, of all things. The clear exhaustion and barely concealed frustration in Aventurine’s voice as he speaks to the person on the other end of that call indicates he probably feels the same as you.

Irritated enough to go back to sleep immediately after hanging up.

“Let’s schedule the interview for today.” he says, sounding like he’s stretching. Oh, great. He’s decided to be professional and get up. You hear him heave a long sigh, probably after hanging up, and blindly try to reach for him.

“No.” you mumble, frowning slightly. Aventurine hums, seemingly surprised, then chuckles.

“Hm? No?” he repeats, and leans down. You open your eyes enough to see him cover the painful rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. He looks at you and tilts his head with a smile, “Not even a hello, huh? You’re so polite.” his voice drips with sarcasm.

You try to press your palm to his face but he grabs your wrist before you can, laughing. He presses closer to you and leans his forehead to your shoulder. “No what?” he asks, whispering. You don’t appreciate the chill that runs down your spine. He’s so close.

“No to leaving before me. I heard that call.”

He smiles against your neck before pulling back to look at you. “Who says I’m leaving?” he huffs softly, “I was just trying to sound awake, okay? And since when were you this clingy?”

“I’m the same as usual,” you complain, turning to lay on your back, “I just don’t want to be kicked out become the actual room’s owner isn’t here, is all. It’s a pain to deal with.”

He’s right. You’re not a clingy person. In fact, you don’t usually find yourself sleeping in the same bed as anyone, no matter how close you are to them. This is just… A rare occurence.

You and Aventurine getting one too many drinks at a nearby bar, you realizing you didn’t get yourself a hotel room prior to the whole ordeal, and crashing in his luxury bedsheets before he could protest.

And the worst part of it? You slept well.

In any case, the problem was that the warmth of someone by your side as you slept felt much more comforting than you’d expected it to be. Maybe it was just the previous night’s drinks residue blurring your thoughts. Maybe that’s what made you say no to him potentially leaving before you could actually process it.

Maybe it’s just because it’s him, and you never really mind him being so close to you.

He sighs and moves over your figure, planting his arm at the side of your head to hover over you. “You’re an awful liar. You wouldn’t last at poker.”

“Enlighten me. What the hell am I lying about?”

“This.”

He smiles, and it somehow makes you all the more aware of the distance between the two of you. It’s not nerve-wracking but it’s not uncomfortable. And it’s not comfortable, either, but it’s somewhere there in the middle. It’s on that line that makes your head struggle to keep up and that’s more than enough to tell you how badly you’re handling what should be a routine, by now. This is nothing new, come on.

“Who am I lying to…?” you continue.

He scoffs. “Yourself. I can practically see the gears turning inside your head. It’s almost cute.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Almost.”

He smiles to himself but doesn’t add more, moving away from you. He breathes out tiredly as he leans back against his pillows, a hand moving to cover his eyes. “You should get the higher-ups to call for a room for you. No one’ll bother you then.”

“You’re the higher-ups, do it yourself, you have the funds.” you imitate a robotic-sounding voice, then sigh, “That’s what they’ll tell me.”

“Mm, will they, now?”

You look at him. Only then do you notice the sun on his skin, his slightly messed up bangs, and the one button holding that cursed hotel pajamas top. You press your eyes shut with half a mind to hold back an annoyed groan. Don’t look at him like that, you repeat in your head.

You and Aventurine are friends. He likes to tease and flirt but that’s just how he is, so there’s really nothing more to it. You work as a negotiator for a group who frequently deals with the IPC’s offers and request for help to convince people of their grandiose plans. And Aventurine is arguably very high-up in the ranks of the IPC. It’s a wonder you even became friends, but it has been a long while now. A long while of bantering, clinging into each other just a bit too much, and listening to the other’s stories the very few times either of you actually opened up.

— Most of those times being after drinks. Nevertheless, it counts for something.

But you’ve never seen him in this kind of light. In sunlight! You’re not seeing him in any kind of new light at all. It’s just a different atmosphere than what you’re used to around him. You’ve spent time talking for hours at quiet bars or helping each other out in the most chaotic situations, but it’s never been this.

It’s so… calm.

But your phone rings. You sigh heavily before you grab it and answer the call. “Hello?” You barely get to properly register who called you before the voice of your senior at work starts complaining in your ear. You grimace.

Aventurine stares at you curiously.

“… This is really last-minute. Seriously?” you say, then wait for an answer. Seems like you’re needed somewhere again. But calling you saying to get to a location one system hour later is just… “Fine, I’ll— I said fine. I’ll be there. Yeah. Yes, sir.”

You hang up. Quiet daydream’s over.

“Turns out I’m gonna need to leave, anyways.” you mutter, sitting up. You suddenly become very aware of how comfortable it was simply laying there talking with Aventurine. Now that you’re faced eith your usual duties and loud coworkers, you’re forced to realize just how soothing the man’s presence is in comparison.

You feel a hand on your arm. It’s warm on your skin, holding some remains from the sun’s touch. You turn your head to see Aventurine’s fingers trailing down slightly, seemingly in thought. “How about…” he trails off, brows furrowing.

“How about?”

He looks up at you and grins before pulling you back into him, wrapping his free arm around your waist swiftly. You end up much closer to his face than either of you had anticipated but you don’t move away, and neither does he.

“How about we take a day off?” he whispers.

You try to say something but no word comes to mind. Aventurine stares at you for a while and you notice his gaze flitting down your face for a flicker of a second before he grabs your arm more firmly and pulls you closer, leaving you no room to even attempt thinking. “Hm?”

“I, you… Fuck you.” is the only response you manage to get out of your throat, and even that sounds half-hearted. It almost sounds like a question, even. You have to blame it on the exhaustion. You brain’s not cooperating, right now.

“Are you offering?”

Now he’s done it. You manage to grab his pillow from underneath his head to swat it at him, making him exclaim in surprise and soon yell for mercy. “Okay, hold on, hear me out, I’m sorry!”

You lower the pillow, looking down at him. You’ve been close before but straddling him’s a new one. Outside of fighting, that is. Maybe this counts as fighting.

“Good Heavens.” he huffs, hair at least ten times messier than it was before, “Okay. That was unnecessary.”

“False. Deserved.”

“…Perhaps.” he clicks his tongue, and carefully picks his pillow from your hands, like it’s a gun threatening to fire at him. “But that was no answer to my offer. Shall we take a vacation?”

“You get to decide when your vacation is?”

His sigh sounds nothing short of exasperated. “Just play along, will you? If you do, I’ll find a way to cover for both of us.” he says, fingers touching your face for who-knows-why. His eyes focus back on yours and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

You’re not going to immediately say yes.

“Fine. Full blame’s on you if my boss kills me.”

He laughs, seemingly pleased with your answer.

“Then rest.” he says quietly, pulling you against his chest. You tense for a while, then relax. Now the sun is on your skin, too, and its warmth almost seems to beckon you back into sleep. Or is it his arms wrapped around you? You can’t tell.

Maybe the world feels a bit less harsh and cold when Aventurine is with you, and maybe you just shouldn’t bother questioning it.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr x reader #aventurine honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #x reader